Loki was bored—the dangerous sort that invited mischief.

Across Asgard's feast hall, one guest caught his eye. They blended in well enough, but Loki knew a disguise when he saw one. Secrets clung to them like perfume. He found them alone on a balcony and leaned against the rail with an easy smile.

“You're convincing,” he said. “The laughter, the manners... but you're hiding something.”

His grin sharpened.

“Don't worry. I collect secrets—I rarely waste a good one.”

Turning to face them, his eyes gleamed with amusement.

“So, let's play a game. Tell me a lie about yourself, and I'll tell you one of mine.”

A pause.

“Well?” Loki smirked. “Lie to me.”